


Fairy Tales for Happy Ever After

by merryfortune



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Angst, Contains a Table of Contents as Chapter 1, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Oneshot collection, Post canon, Requests, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:46:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8492107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: A variety of short fics exploring the post-canon relationships of Princess Tutu.





	1. Table of Contents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Table of contents.

**Comfortable Kiss**

  * Tags: Fakiru, G Rating, Fluff



**A Kiss Because I Have Literally Been Watching You All Night and I Can’t Take It Anymore**

  * Tags: Fakiru, G Rating, Angst



**Warm Wonderings**

  * Tags: Ruetho, G Rating, Fluff & Angst




	2. Comfortable Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahiru and Fakir are rehearsing a complex dance; they indulge each other like lovers tend to do.

   Fakir was quiet or maybe it was because Ahiru couldn’t heart anything above the sound of her own heartbeat. It was constant thump in her chest. All she could hear. All encompassing.

   Their fingers interlocked. Naturally. Like they were meant for each other. Fakir’s hands were rough and Ahiru’s were as delicate as feathers.

   She looked up from her feet – mid-way through a complex sequence of steps – uncertain but the smile that Fakir returned her was assuring. It was a gentle, tender smile and Ahiru found herself entranced by his eyes. When he smiled, his whole face changed and became mild and fond: a sight for Ahiru and Ahiru alone.

   The thumping of her heart became a flutter and she lost her breath.

   ‘It’s okay, Ahiru…’ Fakir murmured.

   His voice tickled her neck and Ahiru trusted him. Like a doll, she allowed herself to be moved by him. Her body did not slump and she did not fall, instead, she was pulled along and stretched out. Her foot rose into the air.

   ‘Perfect.’ Fakir said.

   He held her firmly so she would not slip. He drew her forward once more; upon her toes now and he took her hand. Ahiru twirled beneath his guiding grip.

   ‘Like that?’ Ahiru asked.

   ‘Exactly.’ Fakir affirmed. ‘Exactly like that.’

   Ahiru went down on the balls of her feet. They ached now; having held such rigid, upright positions for so long.

   She beamed and Fakir embraced her tightly. It was like a dream; too good to be true but Ahiru was grateful regardless. She could smell the scents of Fakir on his clothing.

   Fakir’s hands went from Ahiru’s lower back and to her wrists.

   He steadily looked into her eyes and he swore he saw a vast, crystalline lake amid her irises. She puckered her lips and fluttered her eyelashes.

   ‘I would like to be kissed.’ Ahiru murmured. A slight pout twinged her voices.

   Fakir obliged and pressed a gentle kiss unto her lips. He bent down and she stood up on her toes once more. Beneath Fakir, Ahiru’s lips quivered and it turned into a smile. Fakir suppressed laughter; he could feel her wriggle but he didn’t mind. The kiss they shared was natural. Perfect.


	3. A Kiss Because I Have Literally Been Watching You All Night and I Can’t Take It Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fakir awakes from a nightmare but finds solace in Ahiru's peaceful slumber.

   Fakir shuddered as he rose from the tangle of sheets he had woven himself into. He was covered in a slick, hot sweat and his mind was clouded and fuzzy. He attempted to banish dreams and memories – inseparable, indistinct, terrifying – from his mind. He couldn’t. With each blink came a vivid whirl of wind and black as ink feathers.

   He was reviled. His stomach coiled.

   His shoulders moved back and forth with over exaggerated breaths. He felt as though he was suffocating; or perhaps like he was drowning.

   Fakir couldn’t see anything through the darkness of his – their – bedroom. Tears that were hot and unwanted bubbled up behind his eyes; further obscuring his vision. His heavy breaths were agonised.

   His fingers clutched desperately at the sheets beneath him. He could feel them; a little scratchy but honestly there. What he could feel was no illusion. That little, seemingly insignificant consolidation consoled him.

   He took another breath and with that, he was able to control the entropy stirring through him like a murderous tempest.

   Fakir turned his head slight. Yes. Their bedroom.

   Ahiru was blissfully ignorant to his struggles; his nightmares. She was utterly at peace with the night; with her dreams; her subconscious. He envied her for that.

   Fakir straightened the sheets and made sure Ahiru had blankets too. Her fingers curled over the corners and she snuggled in deeper to her pillow. They were duck feather pillows. Fakir laid down next to her and he laced his arm over her waist and she dropped her blanket. She clutched onto his hands. Her hands were tenderly warm. She brought his fingers to her lips. Teeny-tiny nibble-like kisses on his fingertips ensued.

   Did she have any idea he was there or was she acting out dreams? Perhaps she thought him to be a toy.

   Fakir cuddled up next to her. He buried his face against her back; her hair messy and sprawled beneath him. She made no noise to indicate she could feel him tugging on her. That was good. It must be nice being such a deep sleeper.

   ‘Goodnight, Ahiru. Sweet dreams.’ Fakir mumbled; more to himself than to Ahiru. He kissed the back of her neck.

   She made a strange noise – perhaps some sort of coo, perhaps muffled sweet nothings, but more like than not: a gurgle – but Fakir knew she would be smiling. His eyelid flutters to a close and there was another vivid onslaught of crow feathers. He sucked in a deep breath – this time one full of garden-like scents – and he tried to go back to sleep but his mind was absolutely wild. It would be hard to find peace once more but Ahiru was a lovely comfort to him.


	4. Warm Wonderings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rue voices her ungrateful wonderings.

   The swans’ white feathers glistened in the sun. The sheen they produced became more vibrant the further into the sky they flew. They were magical, hearty creatures of grace, purity, and strength. They were nothing like the crows, ugly and dreadful, that Rue was accustomed to. She felt honoured to be by their side - by Mytho’s.

   He insisted on “Mytho” even though he had regained his identity as Prince Siegfried.

   Mytho held Rue’s hand. Her hand was small and delicate. Mytho’s hand was cold too but he wanted to warm Rue. He wanted to be warm.

   “Do I deserve all this?' Rue asked, faint tears in her eyes as she watched the swans flap through the pastel sky with powerful beats of their wings.

   'You deserve the world.' Mytho replied. Rue cuddled up to him. His clothes felt soft against her skin. He was still cold.

   Rue looked up to him. His eyes were still faint, unfocused, unreal. Her hearsay retched. It’s her fault.

   'I’m sorry.' Rue said. She didn’t believe him even though she dearly wanted to. 'But are you okay? With all of this - any of this?'

   'It’s fine, stop worrying about me.' Mytho said, but then he paused and reconsidered. “What do you mean?”

   'I am filthy.” Rue said. She looked down at her gown. It was utterly clandestine. She looked at her free hand. She could swear that there’s still traces of unholy blood on her hands. She can feel it inside of her. Pulsating. Unchanging.

   'There is no innocence in this world, only penance.' Mytho replied and he leaned in. Rue tilted her head upwards and their lips met. A chaste, hesitant kiss ensued.

   When did Mytho become so warm?


End file.
